The Lost Notes
by softer
Summary: A continuation of '26 Notes'- Just a contemplation of word-prompted one-shots. Ratings subject to vary and will inevitably rise.
1. Red

_Okay. I know I promised the sequel to 'To Love' a billion years ago, and I know I said 'within a week' when I promised it._  
_This is me apologizing. _  
_And me promising that it really is coming soon. Just not as soon as I'd like._

_All the same, I don' t want you guys to forget I actually exsist, so here is a small collection of one-shots I've coined 'The Lost Notes'_

_Basically it carries off of my collection '26 Notes'- these are all the other words I could have used. They are in no sort of order, alphabetic or otherwise, and there will be repeats in letters, I'm sure. It's just a little continuation of lost letters, really. _

_Some are short and some are long, but this will just be on ongoing project for the side-burner as I work out the kinks in my other upcoming fics._

_Please review. It's the most encouraging thing a reader can do, and it takes a mere minute of your time.  
And as wrong as it may be, it makes me want to write more, faster.  
It's just the honest truth. _

_

* * *

_

**Red**

"What are you trying to say, Kate?" Castle was in her face, and she could tell he wasn't about to drop the topic.

"Nothing, Castle. Can we get back to the murder board please?" she turned away, trying to hide the blush rising in her face.

"No, we can't. I want you to finish your sentence first," he baited. "What are you getting at?"

"I just mean…" She searched the precinct, searching for a way out of this conversation. She found both Ryan and Esposito averting her gaze, refusing to look at her or them. "We are work. Can we do this later?"

"No," his smile was loud and she found herself mirroring it. Embarrassed was not something Kate Beckett did, but she was flushing all sorts of red, inventing a few shades of her own. "You liiiiike me," he accused, using immature words and a very suggestive voice in her ear. He poked her side, and she countered it with a light blow to his stomach.

He was getting as close and personal as he dared, his voice hushed, his words only for her ears. As cute as she was flustered, he valued their privacy as much as she did. "You want to kiiisss me. Love me and hoooold me," he murmured in a sing-song voice. She smiled as the movie reference, pushing him away, lightly.

"I'm just saying…" Again she was looking around, but this time she was looking for the right words. "We work well together. The back and forth, the polar opposite approaches. It works." She looked at him for a moment before continuing. "We balance each other out. You complement me."

Again his head dipped down so he could whisper, not wanting anyone else to overhear.

"You complete me, too."

And there is was again: A whole new shade of red.


	2. Gazebo

_This is a personal favorite of mine. Yeah, it's a little corny, but there was a Sound of Music special on and you'll just have to forgive me._

* * *

**Gazebo**

The case had led them, of all places, to a gazebo.

The botanical gardens was a lovely place, and the murder on Witch Trail had them all over the grounds looking for the slightest indication of the killer.

They had found a crushed flower ground, no doubt trodden on by the killer, a flower identified as Alcea rosea. The plant, they discovered, grew in only one area of the gardens- surrounding the North Gate Gazebo.

It was a beautiful glass structure, with stone benches lining the round, transparent walls and flowers surrounding the place. Clouds gathered in the sky, dark and heavy looking, threatening. Kate looked up at them, warily, cursing herself for forgetting her umbrella. In front of her, Lanie bent down, fingering the petal of a black flower with a blue gloved-fingers.

"Alcea Rosea-" she said, looking up at the detective. "This is it."

"Great," Kate told her, turning to face her boys. "Ryan, I want you to start canvasing the area- for people, footprints, hell, liter. Esposito, I need you to alert the groundskeeper that this is an area of interest in our investigation. A crushed flower isn't enough for me to claim this a secondary crime scene, but I don't want families vacationing from Arkansas with their hands all over it, destroying potential evidence."

The two men nodded off, intent on doing their assigned task, and Kate closed her eyes a moment, trying really hard to ignore the figure hovering in her periphery. "Lanie, you'll run the flower?"

The Medical Examiner was a step ahead, already bagging a few samples of the flower. "I'm telling you with 98 percent positivity that this is your flower, but I'll run this against what we have anyways. I will call you when I come up with something."

Kate nodded, watching the other woman run off, evidence in hand.

That left her and her shadow.

"It's going to rain," he predicted aloud, and although she wasn't facing him, she could tell by the infliction in his voice that he was looking to the sky.

She continued ignoring him, instead turning and entering the gazebo. Her eyes canvased the large space, at first a precursory sweep, then a longer, lingering appreciation for the architecture. It really was a gorgeous piece of design. The walls were plated sheets of thin glass held together with slim, gold metal struts and cross-pieces, the paint on them fading and in some parts chipping away.

"It's beautiful in here," came Castle's voice again from behind her, informing her that he'd followed her in. She couldn't help but nod in silent agreement. It really was. She wandered around, slowly, taking a closer look at the benches and glass. What she was looking for, she didn't know, but she knew what she wasn't looking for, and that was conversation.

"This reminds me of that scene in The Sound of Music," he told her. Of course, all Castle wanted _was_ conversation. Her eyes traveled along the well-weathered glass planes, refusing to turn and face him. She was probably being childish, but wasn't he always?

"Your life, little girl, is an empty page," he began, in his normal voice. _At least he wasn't singing it, _Kate thought to herself. "That men will want to write on," these words were practically whispered down her neck, and she just realized how close he'd gotten. She remained silent, frozen by the feeling of his soft breathing on her skin, and she knew he was there, waiting for her to do something.

To say _something._

"Castle I am most definitely not sixteen going on seventeen," she said at last, still admiring one particular spot on the window.

"No, that would make my current thoughts very _very _wrong," he growled into her ear, and she shivered, hard. Rain was falling from the sky now, the drops falling with little 'clicks' on the glass.

"You know this could be really romantic if you let it," he murmured against her skin. The rain was picking up in tempo, rising and rising until it was beating relentlessly against the glass. Soon the sound was the only thing filling up the gazebo, aside from unspoken words.

"I like to think we're more than teenagers in lust," she told him, her voice slipping from its formal tone and into a softer, more fragile one. It was then she felt his hands on her hips, slipping around her waist and pulling her backwards into him. It was after a long moment did she relax into his hold.

"No, I have it in my head we are more Maria and the Captain," he informed her, planting a kiss right below her earlobe. "A man and a woman in love."


	3. Sleepovers

**I need fluff to fill my life.**

**Sleepovers**

* * *

"No, no no no no!" Esposito was practically shouting at the television. In his excitement he had risen from his slumped position on the couch, waving his controller around, wildly.

On the couch, Castle snickered, and Ryan's laughter joined him from the leather lazy-boy diagonal to them.

All three of the men were pajama-clad, wireless remote controllers in hand. Ryan was draped over the chair, one foot stretched out on the reclining footstool and the other draped over one arm of the furniture, his elbow holding his weight on the other arm. Castle was slouching comfortably into the matching couch, a pillow tucked behind his head and his legs propped up on the coffee table.

"C'mon, man!" Esposito threw himself back onto the couch, unceremoniously, his jaw set in annoyance.

"You have to use the landscape to your advantage," Ryan told him, mockingly. In retaliation, Esposito chucked a nearby pillow at his partner.

"Shut up." He added bitterly, slumping back into his seat and resuming the game.

This was the tradition- the monthly boy's night. Sure, sometimes they went out, sometimes they did mature things, like clubs and poker and even the occasional game of pool- but the overnighters- they were the best.

Not _sleepovers, _like Beckett liked to call them.  
They were _not _sleepovers.

It was just three men, chilling out, playing Halo.

Yeah, sure, most of the time the boys ended up crashing for the night. They usually had a few beers, they were only being responsible.

"G'morning," a groggy voice sounded from the door to Castle's study door, and by extension, his bedroom. Kate Beckett was shuffling into the living room, bare feet curled against the cold hard wood floor. Her lounge pants were large and baggy and clearly belonged to a man, and her shirt was hanging off one shoulder, her hair mussed up in a just-slept-in look. "You ladies sleep okay last night?"

It was weird seeing her there. Not as weird as it was the first time it happened, but it was weird that it _wasn't _weird. In fact, her presence was known, expected, and totally normal. That alone was weird.

She seemed to be waking up in front of them, eyes still adjusting to the light. "Good morning," Castle greeted, smiling warmly up at her. She didn't return the greeting, instead looking around at the mess the men were sitting in.

"I am going to go into the kitchen and pretend like I never saw this while you boys clean up my living room," she told the group collectively instead.

None of them dare question exactly who the living room belonged to, because they all knew that it was _her _living room. "Do you guys want anything to eat?" she asked.

"Eggo waffles?" Castle asked, his big eyes looking up at hers, wide with hope. "The blueberry kind?"

"Oh my God I'm dating a twelve year old," she groaned, making her way to the kitchen.

Castle leapt up to follow, tossing his controller into his seat without bothering to pause it. "You two keep playing, I will be right back," he told the boys. Esposito rolled his eyes.

"Mommy and daddy are going to have grown up time now," he informed Ryan, who laughed.

"Cover your ears," Castle advised them before disappearing after Kate.


	4. Makeup

**Makeup**

They had fought.

They bickered often, but fighting- she could count the number of bad arguments they had on one hand. The teasing, the pushing, the pulling, the repartee- it was part of the charm, of the attraction, oddly enough, and she found it endearing most of the time.

But tonight they had fought.

She was in the king-sized bed they shared, and it had never seemed so big. She lay on her designated side, not daring stray from it, but when she rolled over, her arm flew out to the side, landing on the cold sheets beside her.

His absence was all the louder.

She buried her face in her pillow, a flurry of confliction. Her anger was subsiding quickly- in fact, as soon as she had kicked him out and stranded him to the couch, she was regretting it. She hated fighting.

With a frustrated groan, she rose. She tip-toed out of the bedroom and into his study, where he was camped out on the couch. His form was a mere silhouette, cloaked in black and the soft glow of street lights leaking in through the bay window. She crept towards him, slipping carefully under the covers beside him.

She realized he was awake then because he scooted over to accommodate her, a tentative arm snaking warily around her waist. He was silently asking permission, she could tell. In answer she covered his arms with his, locking their fingers where they fell at her midsection. He pulled her against his chest the tiniest bit, and she felt the breath of relief against the back of her neck.

She rolled around, a great feat on the small sofa, so she was facing him, titling her head upwards. He replied in kind, lowering his head. Their lips met—slowly, softly. It was a very tender and unhurried affair, and it was her tongue asking for entrance. He gave it to her, deepening the kiss even more. Their tongues touched, almost shyly, as if they hadn't been acquainted yet, and they explored each other all over again.

She loved that he could do this to her.  
Just kiss it and make it better.

She broke the kiss, her brain demanding a break from all the things he was doing to it, looking at him a moment. He looked as lightheaded as she felt, and for a moment she wondered how he could do that to her. She watched as a small smile formed at his lips and he nipped the tip of her nose, playfully.

"Missed me?" he murmured into her ear, a hint of a smile in his whisper.

"Apology accepted," she told him, a hint of that sarcastic bite in hers.

"I'm sorry." He replied, smile gone.

"Me too," she whispered back. Their lips met again in a very measured, deliberate kiss. Searching. Dancing, playing, touching, teasing, but mostly searching.

Neither of them made a move to go any further, both happy to meet for the first time all over again.


	5. Towels

Another fluffy one. I promise, some of them WILL have more substance than all this fluff, but I just need this out of my system. We all need it, even a little bit.

**Towels**

"Castle!" She called out.

He could hear the desperation in her voice, he could feel the need threading through the simple outcry. He leapt out of the bed where he lay, Jimmy Kimmel on the Television, muted, dropping the book he had been engrossed in.

He poked his head into the bathroom. "What is it?" he asked, worried.

She was in the shower, the hot water still pouring from the head and a thick layer of steam coating the mirrors. Her head was sticking out of the shower, though, the curtain still drawn modestly to cover her body.

"Can you grab me a towel?" she asked him, and the look she knew she was going to get pretty much answered that question.

"No," he told her, grinning madly, and even more when she blushed madly. As long as they'd been together, as much as he's seen her body, she was still adorably modest sometimes.

"Please, Rick," she pleaded, letting the childish whine she had learned from him seep into her voice. He just laughed.

"You are going to use all the hot water," he told her, matter of factly, as his hands reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling upwards.

She bit her lip, trying to suppress her smile. "You took all the towels out of the bathroom." It wasn't a question."It's scary how quiet you can be when you want to be."

"I don't know what you're talking about, dear." His sweats were on the floor, and he pushed them aside with a foot. She wasn't surprised that he wasn't wearing anything underneath. He reached for the shower curtain, pushing it back in the same motion that he stepped into the shower.

"The linen cabinet is completely empty, Rick," she replied, stepping backwards to make room for him but not shying away when he reached for her waist, pulling her into him. They were walking together now, carefully, as not to slip on the slick tiles, until her back was against the navy blue tiled wall, her body right in the spray of the water.

He lifted the hand not of her hip to push the wet locks of hair the water plastered to her forehead. Now she was pink with blush and the hot scorch the water left on her, and she was truly beautiful.

"It must have been the shower gremlins," he told her, simply, his eyes dropping from hers to her lips. His hand fell from the back of her head to cupping her face, leaning in so both of their faces were in the spray. She grinned, leaning in and nipping at his bottom lip.

"That so?" She asked him. He took this as his cue, taking it upon himself to plant a kiss full on her lips. When he pulled away, she tilted her head upwards, her eyes falling shut as he made his way wordlessly from her lips, down her chin and to her neck.

Her hands wove into his hair and held him there, and her leg rising around his hip of it's own accord.

In the bedroom, filling Kate's side of their bed, lay all 17 white, 100% cotton-blend towels, all folded neatly, completely forgotten about.


	6. Tame

No one complained about the fluff, so I don't feel bad posting this one. This is one of my favorite ones, I think.

**Tame**

* * *

Kate pushed her key into the lock, turning it and swinging it open to be greeted by the sound of piano. Strong piano, played with heart, played with passion. She smiled a little, the sound touching her heart in more than one place, and hurried into the loft. Rick was on the couch like he always was, waiting for her. They were working a case- it was a rough one and it wasn't doing anything to help their relationship.

Tempers were short fused at the station, the tension in the air heavy and contagious, and they had had more than one argument. The sight of him, curled on the couch in his pajamas and a book, warmed her heart almost as much as the music did. It was coming from the stereo, she realized now, and Beethoven's notes poured from the speakers.

She didn't know why she was so relieved to see him there, as if for some reason he wouldn't be here. It was his home after all.

Well, she considered.  
Their home.

She walked towards him wordlessly, circling the couch and sitting on the edge. Still silent, she used one foot to ease the other out of her black heels and kicked them off, climbing fully onto the couch. Turning to face him, her arms snaked around his waist, pressing her face into his chest.

God, he smelled good.

Like aftershave, man, and _him. _

He didn't seem surprised, or angry, or upset. He dropped the book he was reading onto the floor, unceremoniously, wrapping his arms around her. They stayed this way for a long time, the piano the only noise between them. It was after a long, long moment she spoke.

"Beethoven was my mother's favorite," she told him, without a preamble. "Bach- Bach was nice, but too tame for her. No, she like Beethoven, Chopin, Valentin Alkan." She fell silent, closing her eyes and letting the music permeate her heart, touching the places no other could. She let the hands on her back rubbing small, comforting circles into her back touch another reserved section. "I'm sorry."

"Shhh," was all he whispered, the breath brushing past her ear. "I was overwhelmed, you were overwhelmed. It's no one's fault. Especially not yours. Okay?" He didn't pull away, not even to catch her eyes, content just to crush her body into his.

"No, Rick I-" It was she who pulled back, staying in his embrace but enough to meet his blue eyes with her green ones. "I don't care how stressed out or sleep deprived I was. I shouldn't have said some of the things I said." She searched his eyes, gauging his reaction, until she found the acceptance she was looking for. "I'm sorry." She repeated.

"Me too." It was only then did she reach up, brushing her lips against his, both of them desperate for the touch, lingering only a brief moment before once again pulling away.

"I love you," she told him, cupping his face in her hand, lightly. She had never been the type to say the words often- not after every phone call, not every night, every morning, every goodbye. They just weren't naturally everyday words for her. But she did. She loved him so much her heart ached in the best possible way.

She feared she didn't say it enough, that she wasn't expressing that to him. She needed him to know at that moment- that his love was not one sided. That she didn't want to push him away.

She wanted to love him and be held and nap on the couch and share a bed and fight and make up and say 'I love you' as often as possible. She wanted every single bit of it. She wanted to end up in his arms like this every night.

"I love you too, Kate," he told her, in the same sincere voice he always used.

"I miss you. I miss this- I miss us." She told him, her voice a mere whisper. He only nodded, pressing his lips to hers brief enough to be chaste but long enough to tell her he missed her too. "I'm so tired." She admitted after a heavy silence.

"Sleep," he told her, tightening his arms around her, content to hold her there, more than happy to be her pillow.

"You'll stay?" she asked him. She wasn't sure why, but she longed for the confirmation.

"Wouldn't dream of leaving."

"I love you," she said again, the words trying very hard to pull her heart from her chest.

"Shhh, Kate."

He had never held her tighter, nor she, him.

* * *

_Please review :)_


	7. Bite

**The goal was to write a one-shot off the word 'bite' and keep it rated G.**  
**This is what I came up with. **

* * *

Bite

Kate Beckett trod through the dry grass, now turning from the lush green it carried all summer to the faded brown it adopted this chilly time of year. She continued on, even after the grass turned into straw, intent on her goal.

It was a race.

He had challenged her, knowing full well she wouldn't- couldn't turn the dare down.  
He had challenged her, and she needed to win.

Her eyes moved quickly, scanning, searching, her well-honed senses no doubt giving her an advantage. She scanned the hall that the hay bales created, searching for her opponents, making sure she wasn't being tailed. She saw a flash of red that was unmistakably Alexis making its way eat of her, and smiled at the thought of the teenager.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Richard Castle weaved in and out of the makeshift aisles, marked off by barrels of straw and various decorations, making his way around the maze-like place with obvious ease, the soft crunch of crisp leaves underfoot.

He had been here many times- 18, to be exact, not including this time. He knew this place like the back of his hand- where to go, the fastest routes- where the best ones were.

He knew Beckett was faster than he, and with her detective skills there was no doubt that his home advantage wasn't going to help much, but he held onto the fact that it might be enough, that he might beat her there.

He had shared this tradition with one other person: Alexis. He liked to imagine her now, a tiny little thing not an inch over three feet tall, darting off to here and there and the other place. Determined to touch every single decoration and climb on the hay bales.

Of course this wasn't hard to imagine, the five foot six inch Alexis tiptoeing down the aisle beside him. She was crouched, as if that made her invisible, and he watched her with a grin, passing through the obstacles like they were nothing. She, too was very familiar with this ritual.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Alexis Castle pulled at the navy blue scarf around her neck, tugging it closer to protect it from the bite of the crisp wind. This was her favorite traditions, out of all over her and her father's, which was saying something, considering how many memorable ones they had. Greeting of the fall, he told her when she was younger. This was their annual greeting of the fall.

This year, though- This year was different.

It wasn't just the two of them anymore, this time Kate came along. Although at first Alexis feared that the older woman wouldn't understand the sanctity of this very special occasion, but the detective abolished those fears during the car ride up, and as much as she tried to hide her excitement, Alexis could tell she was eager to share this.

It was a very big deal, after all. Her father, sharing this with her.

Challenging her, even.  
Daring her to drop her walls completely, to run through the maze of hay.  
Daring her to find it.

Find the biggest pumpkin of them all.


	8. System

**Sorry this is so late.  
****It's been such a busy week, it's insanity.**

**Also, on a somewhat related note, I found out on Monday that I was accepted into my first choice college.  
Yeah.  
I.  
Am.  
So.  
Stoked.**

**

* * *

**

**System**

They had a system.

He was horrible about leaving his clothes around, so she made sure they made it into the hamper.  
She hated laundry so he made sure that the clothes in the hamper made it to the washer, then the dryer, then the drawers.

She hated grocery shopping, so he went out for that.  
She made sure to send him with a list.

He hated washing the dishes.  
She dried.

She hated having to put the toilet seat down.  
He made sure she never had to.

He always forgot to turn the lights off when he left a room, so she followed behind him.  
She always fell asleep with the television on, so he kept the remote close by.

She wouldn't cry, so he made her laugh.  
He wouldn't shut up, so she did a whole lot of listening.

She hated waking up cold.  
He never let her.

He hated sleeping alone.  
She never made him.

She hated milk.  
He made it chocolate.

He hated the alarm going off in the morning.  
She woke up early to click it off.

She hated the way she stuck her tongue out when she was thinking too hard.  
He loved it enough for the both of them.

He hated running out of ice cream.  
She made sure to keep the freezer stocked.

They had a system.

* * *

**Firstly, I would like to apologize for making you guys wait so long for this chapter. I think I may post two or three to make up for it, depending on how much writing I get done tonight. Now, dear readers, I have a few favors to ask (I know, the nerve of me.) Please take the time to humor me, it really means a lot.**

**favor number one: so I'm not sure if you've heard, but there is this great Castle Fanfiction Awards thing going on, run by a friend of mine, and I would appreciate it greatly if you took the time to vote. I'm not saying vote for me, but please go and support your favorite authors and stories by taking 2 minutes of your time to take a look. The reviews, the votes, the alerts- they mean something, and it would be a great way to encourage the brilliant writers that dedicate time to write and post their work. The link is on my profile. Thank you very much for reading this far, and even more if you take the time to vote (as many times as you want).**

**favor number two: I would LOVE imput- if any of you darling people have any word prompt you would like me to use, or feel like challenging me, I not only welcome but encourage them. Any word is fair game, but what I do with it is my choice. Please drop a line if you have a word you'd like to see. **

**Favor number three: review? even though I've been baaad about posting. **


	9. Nightmares

_This one is for Emily. For. you know.  
__Everything._

* * *

**Nightmares**

_Water- lots of water. All around her, all she could see, all she could _taste_. Yes, she was tasting the water, drinking it, drowning in it. Then it was above her, too. She fought and fought and fought but the surface grew no nearer. _

_Her screams were silence, taking form not in sound but in small little bubbles of wasted oxygen.  
Silent. _

_The harder she pushed, the further down she was dragged until the water was black. Now she was surrounded by water and black and it was all she could see.  
All she could feel._

_And then she felt nothing._

He felt the woman in his arms wake with a start.

Her skin was moist with the cold sweat she broke into a few minutes prior and she shook, slightly. He held on, tight. He knew she was awake, even though she was turned away from him, because her breathing pattern had changed as she calmed down. Wordlessly, he pressed his lips against the back of her neck.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked, after a moment. His voice was not demanding, not expectant and not eager, but soft and gentle. He tightened his arms around her slightly, using a hand to brush away the bangs clinging to her temple.

"No," was her simple reply. He seemed to accept this.

"I dreamt about you," he told her, and when she said nothing, he continued. "You wanted this scarf, and I couldn't afford it, so I stole it." He pressed another brief kiss to the nape of her neck. "You arrested me, of course, made me return the scarf."

He felt what was either a tremble or a small chuckle reverberate through her. He was hoping for the latter.

When she still said nothing, he buried his face in her hair, content to just lie there and soak in that smell. The feel of _her. _

"I would steal to make the nightmares go away, Kate."


	10. Mojito

**_Okay, get ready for a very serious subject disclaimer. I'm really really dorky, so this chapter involved some research. Sorry if I get anything wrong! My parents are bartenders, so I knew a little bit about what's in drinks, and soem of the lingo, but I just hope I used it all right!_**

**_ Also, I know this subject was kind of an easy play off of the last episode, but considering how little I know of this, give me a break?_**

_**Spoilers for Last Call.**

* * *

_

"For you, my lady," Castle pushed a drink in a large-rimmed margarita glass towards his mother. "Blended and citrus-y, just like you like it."

Martha accepted the drink, grinning at her son. She was first wary of her son purchasing the Old Haunt, unsure if it was a solid investment he could manage along with everything else he managed to do, but she definitely warmed up to the idea.

"Thank you, darling," she replied, tipping the glass towards him before bringing the straw to her lips. Her son grinned back at her, tossing the drying towel over his shoulder.

He loved doing that.

In truth, he loved being behind the bar. He wasn't so blinded by the romanticism of the idea to actually _do _it, but after close and a long case, he didn't see the harm in inviting his closest friends and family for drinks on the house.

He ran a lime expertly around the wide rim of another bowl-like glass before dipping it in salt and filling in with the contents of a shaker . He garnished the drink with a lime wedge and handed it to Lanie, who was sitting next to his mother.

"Straight up, just like _you _like it," he told her, raising an eyebrow, mischievously.

"I don't even care how you know how I drink it," Lanie quipped back, accepting the drink.

He grinned before moving down the bar, setting two highball glasses on the wooden bar. "Baccardi over Dr. Pepper," he told the boys, who were grinning, excitedly. "You two are really original," Castle said, ironically.

He moved on before they could retort back, grabbing a Collins glass from the freezer and the muddler sitting under the bar. He collected the bruised mint and limes off of the cutting board, going over it with a soapy sponge, tossing the mixture into the cold glass and adding a few ice cubes before reaching behind him for two bottles topped with chrome bottle pourers.

He poured them in, simultaneously, stopping just before the mixture reached the lip of the tall glass, the ice bobbing to the top. He stirred the drink until the mint leaves floated to the surface and hooked a lime slice on the edge of the rim before handing it to the woman in front of him.

Beckett accepted the glass, laughing at his elaborate antics. "What is this, Castle, Rock and Rita's?"

"Hey, nothing wrong with having a little fun. Besides, you were supposed to find that attractive," he informed her, matter-of-factly.

"Oh, I'm seeing you in a _whole _other light," she replied, eyebrow lifting only slightly before she took a long sip of her drink.

Truthfully, she found this newly uncovered skill extremely attractive. She looked at him beneath the soft white glow of the bar lights.

It had been an excruciating case, and he had been wearing that shirt for the better part of three very long days, but she didn't seem to mind it now, the first few buttons undone, the towel draped casually over his shoulder.

He hadn't had the time nor energy to shave so there was this small trail of stubble lining his angular jaw, and for the first time in far too long, his smile was reaching his eyes.

She watched as he prepared one last drink, his fingers working expertly over the glasses and ingredients, and she imagined they must taste like salt and lime. He set the drink on the bar, jerking her out of her reverie.

"One Virgin Cuba Libre," he announced, pushing the old fashioned glass towards his daughter, who sat on the stool beside Beckett.

"What? Everyone gets these elaborate summer drinks and I get a Pepsi on the rocks?" She exclaimed, mock appalled at her father's assumption.

Castle just groaned, and turning to Beckett, "There was a time when she asked me, and I quote, 'What does a mo-gi-to taste like?' Now she's using words like summer drinks and 'on-the-rocks.'"

Kate just laughed. "Someone's got to get us home, Lex," she told the teenager, who rolled her eyes. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Castle poured himself an alcohol-free soda as well. She was struck with this sort of appreciation for the father and the friend that stood behind the bar.


	11. Bubbles

**Bubbles**

**

* * *

**

The warm water ran over his hands as Rick scrubbed the plate clean, humming to himself. Washing dishes was part of their routine, and the washing machine took a long, lonely break when she moved in. It was a simple, easy thing they could do together. Sometimes, he would cook these huge, elaborate dishes just so that they could do this together, passing plate by plate by plate until the sink was empty and the cabinets full again.

Kate accepted each plate, drying them with a cloth before sticking them into the respective cabinets. Depending on her day, she would smack him for humming or, as dorky as she thought it was, join in on the tune.

He could always predict the night depending on which she did.

Tonight, much to his delight, her soft voice joined his as they hummed and worked. He would mix up the tune he created just to mess her up, and they she nudged him in retaliation. He nudged back, with a little more force, and when she pushed against him with more strength than she intended, she had to grab for him as he lost his balance, flinging water from the sink everywhere.

It took them both a good few minutes to recover from their laughter before they rediscovered the humming rhythm. The both stood beside each other, humming while they worked, trying really hard to keep their hands off of each other. Their elbows would brush on occasion, and their hands, every time he handed her a dish.

And then, he handed her the last bowl. As she reached up on her tip-toes to put it in the cabinet, he took his hands from the water, and, still covered in bubbles from the soap, slipped them around her waist, grazing the bare skin of her midsection that was exposed.

She shivered, hard, his arms warm, soapy, and unexpected. She sank back to her normal height, her bare feet planted firmly on the ground, when she felt his breath against the back of her neck, and then moving into her hair.

He traced her ear with his tongue and she gasped, clutching on to one of the arms circling her, her nails digging in, only slightly. "Rick," she whispered, her free hand reaching behind her to tangle in his hair.

"Hmm?" he asked, nipping gently at the spot right under her ear.

"We can't do-oh!" She lifted her chin as his trailed hungry kisses along her jaw, at last capturing her lips with his. She hummed into the kiss, using the hand already laced in his hair to pull him down to her, harder. Her mouth opened in unmistakable invitation, an invitation he wasn't about to turn down.

She lost herself a minute, giving in to him and her body and her heart all in one simple action. Then she pulled away. "I hate you," she replied, with this breathless voice he couldn't take seriously. "We can't do this now, your daughter and mother are in the next room."

"So?" he asked her, tightening his hold around her waist, inadvertently pressing his hips against her, informing her just how much he needed her.

"_So?_" she repeated. "_So _we were sent in here twenty minutes ago to clean up and get ice cream."

"Oh." He seemed to suddenly remember this.

"Yeah," she pulled away, immediately missing the warmth of his body.

"Richard, honey," he heard his mother call. "If you two love birds don't hurry it up, we are going to start the movie without you!"

"Oh." He just repeated.


	12. Morning

**I really had no intention of posting this, but then I figured what the hell.**

**You guys thought I forgot about this fic, didn't you? Don't worry, I'm hoping to be back to normal posting on all my current stories. Fingers Crossed, people.**

**Also, there was some awkward tense-shifting that I tried to correct- I hope I got it all. If not, my apologies.**

* * *

Kate Beckett was _not _a morning person.

He should have known better, really. She was the constant surprise, the never-ending mystery. He always assumed she woke up with that perfect hair, with that smile on her face, with that coffee in her hand.

Boy, was he wrong.

Not that he would trade her bedhead for _anything. _

No, when the six o'clock alarm chimed, she was rolling over, her armed extended blindly to slam quite violently down on the snooze button.

He'd actually never seen someone sleep comfortably with a pillow wrapped tightly over their head until her.

But this particular morning, he wakes before her, carefully reaching over to shut off the alarm clock before it can ring out. (they put it on her side of the bed after one-too-many miss-aimed punches).

He turned on his side, propping his head on his hand, running a hand down the bare skin of her arm, lightly. She slept like the dead, so he knew he wouldn't t wake her. He admired the way the light filtering in through sheen curtains washed over her tanned skin.

She wore summer even better in the fall, he notices, and he hoped that day would be warm enough for her to wear short sleeves.

Her face was buried in her pillow, her brown hair cast around her haphazardly, curtaining her closed eyes. Beneath her pillow, her arms were stretched, the sheets displaced to somewhere just above her hips, leaving her naked back for him to explore.

His fingers traced back up her arm and dance over her shoulder before finding the exposed back of her neck. He followed her spine slowly until he reaches the edge of the cream sheets, and smiles at how long it takes him.

He's habitually playful, so he walks his pointer and middle finger back up her spine, chuckling at himself before smoothing his palm over her skin, resting finally on her lower back.

He reflected on the last case- she always took the death of a child just a little bit harder, so when Cassidy Porter's file was dropped onto her desk nearly two weeks ago, it only led to sleepless nights and stress-induced fights.

They'd finally brought closure to the seven-year-old's parents last night, which was almost as physically draining as it was emotional. Almost.

_She disappeared into the master bathroom, running the water as hot as it would go, letting the steam fill up the bathroom and seep into her skin. He was surprised when she stuck her head back into the bedroom, where he was stripping into his boxers. "Get in here." She said, shortly._

"_Why?" he hadn't a clue where the question came from, why on earth he was questioning her very obvious motives. "I just mean-" he sputtered "-I didn't think you'd be up for-"_

_She smiled- although it didn't quite reach her eyes- and shook her head. "I don't plan on leaving this shower until the water runs cold, so if you want a shower tonight you'd better get in here."_

_As if he needed telling twice. Well, three times. _

_His boxers went into the laundry bin with the rest of the clothes he'd probably throw away and he made his way into the bathroom, where she was already slipping into the shower. _

_His hands found her hips, caressing her in a way that was intimate but not overtly sexual. He grabbed the red pouf from the shower caddy and poured on way too much of her vanilla scrub, making it sudsy before scrubbing gentle circles from her chest to her belly button. She leaned back into his body, letting her head fall to his shoulder, his chin resting on hers while he continued his thorough washing. _

_When he was convinced her front was washed and rinsed to satisfaction, he nudged her gently, guiding her to turn around. He thought she'd fallen asleep until she complied, circling her arms around his waist and nestling her head under his chin, her cheek against his breastbone. _

_She closed her eyes and counted his heartbeats while he washed her back, taking his time, only satisfied when every stress knot was a mere memory. _

_He dropped the pouf and grabbed her shampoo- the scent of the month seemed to be Wild Violet, and once again poured way too much into the palm of his hand. _

_He worked a lather into her hair- it had grown quite long- scrapping his fingertips against her scalp, soothingly. He rinsed and repeated before he grabbed the conditioner, and it had nothing to do with the instructions on the bottle. _

_When he was finished, she lifted her heavy head, planting a kiss to his shoulder before grabbing the pouf herself._

_It was strange, the feeling of the scrubby on his skin- he was used to washcloths. As she worked it up his chest and over his broad shoulders, he could certainly understand why she enjoyed them. _

_She washed every inch of him, dropping the occasional kiss to his arm or his knee or his back. _

_She was considerate enough to use his soap, although her motives were more selfish than she'd like to admit, so when she'd turned them so he could stand under the spray, he smelled like him again. _

_She slipped shampoo-coated fingers into his hair, massaging it in until all she could see were white soap bubbles. He smiled at her intent gaze, watching her concentrate on her work. He watched her try to force the exhaustion from her eyes and her muscles but she was too tired to even do that, so he held her elbows, lowering her arms from his head to his waist, wrapping them around him. _

_When he was sure she was settled there, leaning on him shamelessly, he raised his own arms to his hair, rinsing the remaining soap before shutting the shower off. _

_He didn't pull away until absolutely necessary, toweling off her and most of himself before planting a kiss to her temple and leading her to the bedroom. _

_Neither of them bothered with clothes, slipping under the sheets and finding each other immediately. He slipped his arm around her waist, burying his nose into her hair, his lips brushing the nape of her neck. _

He broke from his reverie by her stirring, and decided he couldn't wait anymore. Rolling himself over onto his hands, planted on either side of her, he supported his weight there so he didn't crush her.

He planted a kiss to her shoulder, their mutual sign of affection, before moving across her shoulders and even further onto her neck, where he nuzzled her, playfully.

He felt as much as he watched her stretch, languorously, her shoulder muscles flexing, her arms extending under the pillow. Her head turned, slightly, and he took that as subconscious permission to continue, nosing her jaw line and her cheek and the curve of her own nose.

His kisses were sweet- affectionate in a way that only could exist this early in the morning. He heard a soft, incoherent mumble, and he replied with a kiss to her ear and a warm 'good morning'.

He could tell she registered what was going on when she shifted easily onto her back, her weary green eyes meeting his pale blue ones. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a grin before he lowered his mouth once again, trailing open mouthed kisses along her collar bone, from shoulder to shoulder, unrelenting until he felt her fingers slipping into his hair.

She tugged him upwards, her lips curving into a smile that mirrored his. Her fingertips played with the hair at the base of his neck, lifting her head from the pillow so her nose could play with his.

He caved first, unable to resist the easy capture of her mouth.

She pressed upward, silently asking for more, her tongue venturing to meet his. Her hands flattened against his brought shoulders, moving to his chest. She made to go lower but he stopped her, capturing her hand in his much larger one, lacing their fingers together before pressing their joined hands into the pillow next to her head.

She sighed, enjoying the way his mouth caressed hers, running the hand he hadn't captured up and down his ribs, smiling against his lips when she felt him shiver. They take their time, reveling in simple touches and caresses, but it was his turn to smile when it was _she _who grew impatient.

"I've missed you," she murmurs.

"You did?" he asks, not above fishing for a compliment. After the past two weeks, he was just vulnerable enough.

"Hmm," she hummed against his skin as he moved down to plant sweet kisses up her neck and along the shell of her ear. "You know I did."

"Tell me," he whispers into her hair, when he encouraged by the bite of her nails into his side. He loved when she talked to him here.

"I missed this. Us." She takes a moment of pause to catch her breath as he moved from her temple to her jawline and even further, tracing the column of her throat with his tongue. "I've missed being here." She rolls her hips into his to punctuate her statement.

Her free hand fists in his hair when he moves his attention to her breasts, a sigh escaping her lips. "I've missed the way you touch me." He hums his response to that, earning another small sound from her. He made it all the way to her navel before lifting his head, blue meeting green. Everything about her heated gaze told him to continue his charted path, but mischief in his told her he had other plans.

The next thing she knew, he was meeting her lips again, the thumb of his free hand brushing her cheek, lightly.

"I've missed you, too, you know," he informs her, matter of fact-ly.

"Have you?" she asks, unable to keep the smile from her face. "I couldn't tell."

He only nods, solemnly. "I've missed your smile," his thumb ghosted over her lips. "And your laugh." He nipped her nose, lightly. "And _that _look in your eyes," he pointed to the shining green beneath her lidded lashes. She blinked, her long lashes kissing his finger.

"You and your sweet nothings," she grinned, terrible at hiding how pleased she was with all of his answers. He was so good at that. "That all you missed?"

He looked upward, pretending to think about the question, and she used her hips to rock him, playfully. "I'd tell you, but it's a long story. We might be here all day."

She lifted her head from the pillow to plant a kiss on his shoulder. "Well then," her foot traveled along his calf where their legs tangled beneath the sheets. "You might just have to show me."

* * *

**Reviews are much appreciated :)**


End file.
